You Know Who I Am
by Monisse
Summary: A series of one-shots from the life of Sam and Jules. Chapter 7 - Whatever the Heart Desires: After her monumental failure in the mission, he had completely obliterated the line between them with an incredible kiss. After pondering the pros and cons, she put reason on hold, went to his apartment and gave herself to him with no regrets.
1. Clean Hands, Clean Soul

**Title:** Clean Hands, Clean Soul

 **Pairing:** Sam / Jules

 **Rating:** K+

 **Spoilers:** Season 3, Episode 7: Acceptable Risk

* * *

Water ran freely into the bottom of the sink punctuated by drops of red that swirled and disappeared down the drain. Hydrogen peroxide. That was what had been prescribed for his acute blood-stained problem. He had raided all first aid kits and cabinets around the premises and did not find a single bottle of the chemical. At the end of his failed search he had wondered if the demand had always been higher than the supply around here, perhaps in previous desperate needs to go home with apparent clean hands.

So he attempted with hot water and soap again to erase at least the physical reminder of that night, even though it would be permanently engraved in his brain.

After the interrogations had been over and the case closed with a short, poignant talk from the boss, all of them had silently returned to the locker rooms with heavy hearts. The others had hastily discarded their uniforms, attempting to unburden a piece of their minds with it, and returned home to their families to find some resemblance of normalcy. Silence was all that waited for him at what he reluctantly called home. He dreaded it. It was strongly woven into the fabric of his life: in the heavy silence of his family home where no one dared to talk, in the silent wait for a target, in the deadly silence after a shot, in the deafening silence in an apartment with no one to embrace him when he arrived.

The hours had stretched slowly across the night and he was left alone stubbornly rubbing his hands by the fluorescent light of the sink. His eyes avoided his reflection in the mirror for he knew if he looked he would see a man made of failures and guilt. A knock on the open door effectively cut the dark thoughts that had started to plague his mind.

"Decent?" Her soft voice pierced the silence in the locker room accompanied by the sound of her heels on the floor.

A head of brown hair appeared in his peripheral vision which made an involuntary smile cross his lips. To this day he did not know why she bothered to knock in advance when it barely served as a warning for her barging in anyway.

"I come bearing gifts." She said in a melodious tone while waving a brown bottle and a small amount of cotton. Although hesitant and still a little gloomy around the edges, her smile was a welcoming gift in itself.

"So, you're the one holding the last bottle of hydrogen peroxide captive!" Humor had always been a comfortable shield to hide his feelings, although he had learned with time that she could easily see through his jokes and sarcasm at such moments.

"I keep a bottle in my locker." She answered while placing the bottle on the counter. Her deft hands made a small ball with a piece of cotton and soaked it with solution.

With surprised eyes he watched as she reached for his right hand and started to steadily clean his fingernails with a precision that only came from experience. He opened his mouth to protest and thought of pulling his hand away, but no sound came nor did his hand move when the piercing look of a single eyebrow lift challenged him to refuse her actions. He settled against the side of the sink and let himself enjoy the attention. After so long, it felt good to feel her hand touch his, to watch her display a little kindness to him. The aftermath of their separation came with strained moments and sharp words, but in the past months they seemed to have arrived to a place of amiable conversations, although an immense longing now resided in their eyes. Now, they stood so close that he could smell the flowery scent of her freshly washed hair, a smell that had featured in many of his dreams after that particular bottle became absent from his shower.

A comfortable silence enveloped them as she brought his hand to her face and closely examined her work. Clearly not satisfied, she poured more liquid into cotton and resumed the activities. His hands were a mixture of red patterns, the irritated skin from his previous fervent scrubbing mixed with the residual stains of blood, and she would not rest until the latter was completely gone.

"You seemed very upset after the interview with the SIU." She finally said after a while.

In the loneliness of her own locker room she had debated at length on how to approach the concern that had been boiling in her mind ever since they saw the crime scene. He had not even said a word, but his barely noticeable change in breathing from the usual controlled intake of air to a sharp one, had been enough to alert her that something was happening in his mind. Back then she had offered a short explanation, hoping to stir his mind into focus again. The confirmation came a while later as he stood motionless in front of a woman, barefooted, drenched in a pool of blood. It had not made sense then, it had not been the first time they had seen wounded and dead, and although it never failed to elicit a primitive, nauseating reaction, it seemed to be affecting him profoundly this time.

With a sardonic chuckle he brusquely spoke. "That's an understatement."

The SIU officer had catapulted his already brittle state of mind beyond the line between _fine_ and distraught. He felt shattered, stretched to his limits, exhausted as if his own life essence had been drained out of him after an already horrific night.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She gently pressed.

His eyes had been red rimmed with unshed tears when he stormed out of the briefing room after the interview. The concern she felt for him, and often failed to hide, had compelled her to follow. But then the scrutinizing gazes of their colleagues turned to her, seemingly advising her to stay put in a chorus of silent understanding. Now they were alone and she offered her undivided attention without judgement, as she had done many times before.

He shrugged with one shoulder and made a struggling sound in his throat. "She made me talk about something I rather have kept to myself."

"Did that have anything to do with your reaction to the shoes tonight?" As she spoke, her eyes did not need to leave his hands to notice how shocked he had been with her straightforward instinct. What she saw were is hands shake slightly at her question as she finished her cleaning process.

Whatever she asked he always seemed obliged to answer. A lifetime ago, after a particularly enthusiastic argument about the hazards of keeping secrets from her, they had laid on her bed, backs facing each other with a desert of sheets between them. That night he had promised himself he would not hide secrets from her, no matter how insignificant they were. He recalled that promise as he looked into her concerned face still focused on his fingers in spite of the already finished task. A shuddering breath left his lips and once more he felt newly formed tears burning his eyes. He moved away, gently pulling his hands from hers only to immediately miss the touch.

She watched him walk a short distance and sit heavily at the bench across the sink row. Strong arms flexed as his elbows rested on his upper legs, face hidden in his now clean hands. Shortly after, he sensed her petite body occupy the space next to him and a small, supportive hand laying on his back. It ultimately gave him strength to tell that story, the whole in the middle of his childhood, for the second time that night. This time there was no bitterness in his voice, only a deep longing for a little girl he would never see grow up.

She listened intently as he told the story of what should have been a happy day turn into a horrendous nightmare. With a heavy heart she watched as his eyes overflowed with sorrow for his sister, his husky voice broke as he tried to form the words to say what had been safely locked inside for far too long. Her own eyes threatened to spill unshed tears, but she never avoided looking into his blue ones.

In the end, it was he who averted his eyes and abruptly stood up. Through his narrative he had not seen a single ounce of accusation or pity in her eyes. All he had seen there was kindness, until he could not bear any longer, and walked the short distance back to the sink. His hands rested on the counter, his head lowered avoiding the mirror and his back turned to her.

"I should have protected her, make sure she was safe! I couldn't… "

With an intake of breath she quickly rose from the seat and gently pressed her body against his back, her hands circled his waist and came to rest against his stomach. She was sure that in other circumstances he would not have allowed her to embrace him, it was too close to the fire she had so unceremoniously put out long ago, but he needed the comfort and she offered willingly. For a second she felt his body tense, but instantly all tension seemed to release with a soft sigh.

"Sam, you can't carry that guilt, it was not your fault." She said softly, resting her cheek against his back.

"I know." He offered back with a hint of doubt still in his mind. "I was so used to not talk about her, not even think about it. That was the rule in my family, deal with it and move on. It became this issue I couldn't acknowledge or it would be too painful. And then tonight…" His voice broke.

"And tonight you saw the shoes, and the barefooted woman." She stated in a dejected whisper. Suddenly, some of his unconscious behaviors made perfect sense, his instinctive movements to reach for her arm whenever they crossed a street and safely guide her to the other side. His voracious need to protect others was not only something that seemed embedded in his genetics, but also a by-product of life's circumstances.

"Yeah, it suddenly brought it all to my mind, I couldn't control it."

In a distant corner of his mind he had registered her calling his name, demanding action when he saw the woman, but he had not been there at all. He had been over twenty years in the past perplexedly looking at the ground and into little pink sandals.

"I know. But you cannot run from, nor change what happened in the past, no matter how deeply it hurts. All you can do now is let yourself remember her for everything good she was."

She spoke so candidly, from a place of someone who knew painfully well how it felt to lose a loved one. An absence that would last a lifetime. No one had ever said that to him. He was growing exceedingly tired of carrying that burden through his life, of locking away the most precious memories of his childhood in exchange for perpetual silent grief. It was time to end that vicious cycle fueled by his guilt, and remember.

His hands rested on top of the slender fingers that so meticulously had cleaned his own, and braced himself for the upcoming storm. All the repressed memories, good memories, came crushing down on him.

She felt drops hit the skin of her hands which echoed in pain on her chest. He was crying, finally letting go of years of sorrow. His body shook with silent sobs, which only served to embrace him tighter in her arms and hold him on that emotional journey.

After a moment he calmed down while tenderly caressing her fingers with his own. Inside his chest a whirlwind of emotions with more than twenty years had seemed to break into a clear sky, and a watery smile appeared on his face.

"Thank you." He sincerely offered, not only for the act of cleaning his hands but also his soul.

For the first time that night he looked into the mirror. Beyond the reflection of a large man and a small woman completely hidden behind his body, only her arms showing, he saw a man that needed to forgive himself and carry on remembering his little sister.

Sensing his newfound peace, her head peeked from behind his back and he saw her reflection in the mirror. She smiled brightly at him, the first ray of sunshine after the darkest night.

* * *

I thought of turning this into a series of one-shots, but this might just be my last attempt for Flashpoint, even though I dearly love it.

I hope you enjoyed this, and thank you for reading. Feel free to leave reviews.


	2. The Hazards of Keeping Secrets

**Title:** The Hazards of Keeping Secrets

 **Pairing:** Sam / Jules

 **Rating:** T

 **Spoilers:** Season 2, sometime between Episode 1: Eagle Two and Episode 4: Between Heartbeats

 **A/N:** I "whumped" Sam, and I am so sorry, but it was a literary necessity! Also, this story is now a collection of one-shots about Sam and Jules life. Enjoy.

* * *

He was greeted by darkness as he silently closed the front door behind him. Exhaustion finally caught up with him and with some difficulty he climbed the stairs, his eyes slowly adjusting to the daunting shadows lurking in the corners. Gently, he opened the door to her bedroom. The atmosphere inside was peaceful and tempting, a small feminine frame was submerged in soft pillows and white sheets. An unsteady breathing in alpha rhythm announced that she was still in the early stages of hypnagogic consciousness, as usual waiting for his arrival.

For the last two days she had been enjoying, as much as she allowed herself, two hard earned days off. Days like these were few and far between, but quickly she found herself restless and did not shy away from letting him know that. All her matters had been put to order and the renovations were well underway, but being alone in a big house for so long was a foreign concept for her.

He approached the bed cautiously not to startle her and allowed his body weight to slowly descent into the mattress in a furtive crawl over her body.

"Hi." He whispered in her ear. His body pressed to hers while his arms pulled her back against his chest. A rustling of sheets told him of a sudden change in position. She then faced him in the complete darkness of the room.

"Hey, how was work today?" Her lips found his instinctively and placed a longing kiss upon them. The drowsiness in her voice was slowly fading away as both her senses and her body awakened under his tender touches on her back.

"It was good, a few calls, but nothing serious." He answered back hastily, his mind far away from work and completely focused on the trail her lips were burning on his jaw and down his neck.

Never leaving his lips, she kneeled in the middle of the bed, all the while dragging him into a seating position by fistfuls of his shirt. Round hips straddled his. With a primal instinct his hands gripped her thighs and pulled her closer until their greedy centers collided, just so he could hear a moan escape her lips. Her mouth devoured his with a desire that resulted from hours of absence and the fact that she had been denied of his attention in the previous night. Much like tonight, yesterday he had arrived to her house after an uncommonly long shift, with scarce words and touches. At that moment he had pledged fatigue and simply laid on his back without bringing her closer. Thus far that had been a novelty, both asleep on her bed without any sort of passionate activity. The absence of his embrace at the only time of day in which they could express their mutual cravings, had felt odd.

Tonight, she would not allow him to escape her amorous snare and locked her arms behind his neck to bring their bodies closer. It seemed that their thoughts were in the same wavelength, because his hips were moving with the same cadence of hers, while grunts and moans got trapped between their tongues. Meanwhile, their hands were reacquainting each other with their bodies in a languid exploration. Her hands reached under his shirt and travelled the well-defined slopes from sturdy abdomen to chest. Under her care he let a barely imperceptible whimper. In the dark she could not see his face but noticed his sudden unease. However, it was promptly erased from her mind when his lips assaulted hers once again.

Using her body as leverage, she pushed both of them until his back hit the mattress among the pillows. As a result she landed heavily on top of him. A loud grunt of pain cut the night air, the agony in it resonated all over the room. She sat back on his hips instantly and her hands desperately roamed over his stomach blindly attempting to pull on fabric.

"Sam, what's wrong?" Came her alarmed plea.

A strangled ' _Nothing_ ' formed on his lips but his skilled eyes, already adjusted to the lack of light, saw the silhouette of her arm reaching for the nightstand light.

"No!" He shouted. His arm attempted to reach for hers and stop the movement when a flash of pain shot through his side exploding into a sting on his eyes.

When light suddenly bathed the room, his hands automatically protected his eyes from both the harsh contrast and the concern carnival that was about to begin as soon as her deft fingers pulled the shirt off his body. Which, unfortunately, she just did.

By the bright light of the lamp she examined his bare torso and saw the uneven watercolor of blue, purple and red that formed a large bruise on the left side of his abdomen. It looked painful, ran from hip to ribs covering a large area of skin. With unsteady fingers she traced the length of the bruise, only to stop abruptly when he winced in discomfort. Even with a hidden face, she could see he was fighting to control his reactions, reflexive as they were, trying to swallow the pain he did not want to show.

"Oh God, Sam!"

"I know I'm good, but I'm not yet sure of my divinity status…" He lowered his hands and attempted a grin with innocent eyes.

She slapped his shoulder, not so lightly, already exasperated with his insufferable instincts of deflection.

"What happened?" The question came out stiff between her compressed lips, a reflex of the mixture of concern and irritation that was boiling inside her chest.

He sighed in defeat and, unsuccessfully, urged his body to relax. Even though he loved the view of her straddling his hips, with shorts and top unfortunately still covering her lovely body, he knew he owed her the truth. Or at least as much of it as he could deem safe for her to hear without lethal consequences for himself. Blue eyes locked with brown ones as he searched for words to calm the worry swallowing them.

"It was just an awkward fall yesterday." _From the second floor of a building_. "Not a big deal." _My breath was knocked out of me and I was laying still on the concrete for far too long._ "It doesn't even hurt that badly, Jules." _It is hurting like nothing before._

The reassuring smile he made did nothing to appease her mind. Instead, and to his baffled self, it seemed to make her angry. A dangerous thought crossed his mind, one he would never voice or it would surely be his last day on Earth; in times such as these he would truly like to ask Spike how to defuse the time-bomb she became.

"Not a big deal?" She finally exploded. With a grunt of exasperation she got off the bed and paced the room, her brown eyes livid after his nonchalant reply.

From the beginning she knew he usually dismissed the gravity of injuries, playing the tough soldier, for it had been a long time since someone showed concern for him. As a consequence, he stoically carried his battle wounds in silence. To a certain extent she did exactly the same. Concern was fine and welcomed, but she was self-sufficient and hated people fussing around, which only served as a reminder of the frailty of life and her own unaccepted weaknesses.

"I can't believe it, Sam. How could you do this?" She had stopped pacing, her back faced him, and the words sounded miserable to her ears. This was far too serious to brush aside and simply catalog in the vast list of bruises, concussions and wounds that punctuated his life. Even worse, the fact that he felt the need to hide it from her woke ghosts of past insecurities she rather have kept locked inside.

When no sound came, she turned and watched him stand up with difficulty. Straightaway, she felt torn between the need to help and a violent urge to slap him for keeping secrets. Yet, threats of violence seemed awfully counterproductive in his current state. He came to stand in front of her and shook his head as if he had no possible answer which would satisfy her.

His silence prompted her anger further and she shouted to his face. "What am I to you, only a warm body to cater to your night time needs?"

The question sounded foreign to her ears, but it was a scared side-effect of the primitive feelings that injury had awaken in her. If he was surprised by her question, the ferociousness of her reaction astonished herself even more. She should not be feeling anger towards him, after all, she knew his work tactics, which sometimes involved necessary, albeit not always calculated, risks. Pain was an occupational hazard. But the sight of him hurt, and even the slight possibility of losing him, was becoming so increasingly overwhelming that her mind usually crossed beyond the boundaries of rational thought without warning.

As soon as those words had left her lips his large hands closed around her shoulders and shook her frame slightly.

"Of course not!" He said angrily, eyes set on hers and his face gravely serious.

"Then why didn't you trust me enough to say you had been hurt, so I could help you and not make it worse by tackling you to the bed!?" She said in a thunder of shouted words while her closed fists hit his chest once in full force. All he needed from her was comfort, and yet she could not restrain herself from expressing worry with such aggressiveness. When he gasped from the pain generated by her reckless behavior, she took a step back in order to control her impulses.

Not long after they met, he had discovered a particular interesting temperament feature in her. Even though she was an extremely compassionate person and did not refrain from expressing affection, when it came to loved ones, the expressions of her concern often came out with exacerbated ferocity, not exclusively verbal. Right now, such concern only aggravated his already delicate status, but he knew her fairly well by now to accept it, not for what she showed, but for the fear of loss that lurked just below the surface.

"I didn't want you to worry, Jules. You always get so upset when I get hurt. Then you would start thinking that _if only_ you had been at work you might have done something to prevent this, and your brain would be turning around it all night." The words were sincere and he could tell they were having a positive effect on her.

Looking into his eyes now, devoid of any accusation and simply shinning with sincerity, she felt anger starting to fade away and give space only to concern. The waves of emotions could easily be tracked in his eyes. She had always marveled at how candidly they showed in those drops of blue.

"That's not an excuse, Sam!" She whispered sadly. "I hate that you kept it a secret from me regardless of how significant it is or not."

"I got checked out, and everything is fine." He assured her.

His last statement did wonders to calm her mind and wash away the remaining fear for his health. However, a little flare of residual anger flashed in her eyes. He still needed to learn a valuable lesson in her book. She came close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body and the uneven breathing after their fight.

A single, accusatory index finger pointed in his direction, threateningly close to his face.

"Next time you keep secrets from me there will be hell to pay, Samuel Braddock."

She walked away, with that statement hanging in the air, and dove into the pile of sheets and pillows that made her bed.

"And no sex!" She threw into the night as an afterthought that should have worked to lighten the mood but did nothing to moderate the somber sensation that still vibrated against the bedroom walls.

He saw her nearly disappear among a sea of white, laying on her left side. With a sigh he got ready for bed, slipped under the sheet, reached for the light and effectively covered the room in darkness once again. By instinct he rolled onto his left side to hold her, but immediately felt otherwise. First because he could see that she was still slightly fuming after their argument, and secondly because the pain in his left side was excruciating. As much as he loathed it, he turned on his right side, his back now faced her back with a desert of sheets between them.

Sometime later he felt her small body melt into his back. Mindful of his bruise, her arm circled his waist and her lips placed a tender kiss on the back of his neck. In turn, his hand entwined with hers. The tension that had laced into his muscles ever since she discovered his injury now slipped away with a single touch. As the sands of slumber started to fill his mind, his last conscious thought was a promise to never keep secrets from her, no matter how insignificant they were.

* * *

As evidenced on several occasions on the show, Jules expresses concern verbally (S2E20) and physically (S3E03) in somewhat aggressive ways when it comes to her loved ones. I suffer from something quite similar. Thought it would be a fun exercise to play around with that for this story.

Thank you for reading and please review!


	3. A Song about Love

**Title:** A Song about Love

 **Rating:** T

 **Timeline:** Season 4, Episode 6: A Day in the Life

 **A/N:** We all _know_ (implicitly) that Sam gave her the necklace! The title is a reference to A Song about Love (You'll Know) sung by Clé Bennett.

* * *

The first morning light long before sunrise filtered through the curtains on the window and hit his closed eyes. With a grunt of annoyance his hands tried to block the offensive light but it seemed to demand full awareness. He looked down and suddenly all displeasure slipped away when he was greeted by brown hair tendrils spread across his chest. Dark lashes flickered slightly as the owner of lovely brown eyes, hidden behind closed lids, slept peacefully in their warm cocoon of covers.

Not for the first time he wondered how such a small human being could not only occupy more than half the bed, but also half his body. Almost every day he woke up with her short legs tangled with his, head on is chest and her arm securely around his abdomen as if preventing him from leaving. Nearly three years ago, it had been a surprise to discover that Julianna Callaghan, notorious badass and negotiator extraordinaire, liked to cuddle. Not that he would ever complain.

His fingers caressed her cheek which resulted in a small unconscious smile to lift the corners of her lips and a content sigh to be exhaled. Goosebumps ran down his arms, short blond hairs raised in reaction to both the cold air and her soft breathing fanning across his chest. He would never get tired of watching her sleep in the early morning, body completely relaxed against his, all worries forgotten in a suspension of time that was only theirs alone.

Three red numbers glared from the nightstand, warning him that time was running out on the picturesque scene their bodies formed among white linens and within the blue walls of her bedroom. Soon they would have to face the busiest day of the year.

Nonetheless, before immersing into copious amounts of red hearts, roses and lunatics that assaulted the world on such a day, there was something else he needed to do.

He carefully removed his body from below hers. Even then she slept so deeply that neither violent storm nor train through the house could wake her up. With bare feet, he walked the short distance across the cold wood floor to his proudest achievement, his very own clothes drawer.

After they got back together it had been a necessity to maintain their individual spaces and autonomy, but soon concluded that their free time was too precious to waste in being apart. Gradually, small things started to mysteriously appear at both their homes: toothbrushes, shampoo bottles, and suddenly it felt like they were sharing a single life in two different houses.

After months of sneaking around, he yearned for more and deep down knew she wanted it as well. She deserved far more than stealth sleepovers. Unfortunately, and in spite of a mutual decision to brave everything together this time around, they both still recognized that the only thing that stood in the way of half their happiness was the other half, their work.

His hands swiftly moved some articles around in the drawer until he found a small box at the bottom, carefully hidden from her exceptionally curious eyes.

A few weeks ago, in anticipation for the day, he had entered a jewelry store. An anxious feeling had settled in his stomach as soon as he crossed the door. Regardless, he had wanted to give her something special. He considered himself a caring man, romantic even, but had never bothered to go into extremes to profess his affections to any other woman before. Then again, she was not _any_ woman because no one had ever made him feel like she did. A concoction of love, fear, lust and concern was a constant battle within his heart, but was all worth it because now he knew she felt exactly the same for him.

He had been motionless for a long while in front of a glass case staring at silver and gold bands with brilliant stones on top, one more beautiful and expensive than the other. For a moment, his mind carried him to a place in time where one of those would proudly rest on her slender finger and catch the day light to reflect dazzling colors.

If his military life had taught him anything besides taking lives, it was that he needed to live voraciously, as if it was the last day on Earth, and go after what he truly wanted. The first time he had surrendered easily, she had given him no choice whatsoever, but patience is a virtue and he had plenty to share. This time both aimed for the bigger picture. It was just a matter of time and overcoming the small technicality that they were not even supposed to fraternize too closely or heads might roll.

He had sighed deeply then, longing for the day when he would profess his love for her out loud in front of everyone. Then, his flight of fancy had been interrupted by the store clerk that, with a sympathetic smile, helped him choose some other perfect gift.

In the quietness of her bedroom, he extracted the contents of the box and moved towards the bed where, without surprise, she still slept deeply. His body hovered above hers on the bed, skillful fingers worked the piece of silver around her neck and let it rest against her chest.

Lips sought the exposed warm flesh of her neck and burned a trail of kisses down her body in the most luxurious way to wake her.

* * *

Melodious bass notes vibrated on her chest as their colleague smoothly played the keys of the piano. Between her fingers, a newly acquired silver chain with two small pendants dangled in a playful motion. By the flickering light of red candles, the music enveloped them in a sensuous atmosphere and she felt herself melting against his side while the warmth of his body sipped into hers.

She recalled that same morning when she had felt that heat invade her sleep. Somewhere in the void of a dreamless state, she felt his lips dance upon her skin meanwhile his hands fired marvelous sensations to her brain. Soft moans invaded her ears over and over again, like a broken record. For a brief second she had wondered if it were her own slightly parted lips that were producing those breathless sounds.

Such vivid lusty dreams had tortured many of her nights in the past, where all she had for company was a landscape of sheets and loneliness. The awakening afterwards was always both physically embarrassing and emotionally devastating, which left her with a longing sensation for someone she would never have again. Then everything had changed, dreams became reality once more and he, very often and thoroughly, showed her exactly how real his feelings were. Never again had her bed been cold and empty.

A shiver had run through her body as brown eyes opened to the dimly lit room. At first everything was a hazy portrait of blue and grey with the dim light from the astronomical twilight dancing upon the walls. But as the dream state receded, her eyes captured the gleam of an object that rested around her neck. In the midst of the very real sensations running through her body she wondered how that delicate piece had come to find itself nestled between her breasts.

The answer was farther down. With flushed cheeks she saw that his body rested comfortably between her legs and his lips dropped eager kisses down her abdomen. Filled with curiosity, and before the wonderful sensations could increase to a point where neither would be able to stop, she entwined her fingers in his fine blond hair and gently urged him to stop.

Blue eyes had suddenly regarded her with surprise. She had wanted to chuckle in that moment, but the glazed amorous look he gave her had made her heart burst with affection. Between her desperate moan and his groan of astonishment, she pulled him by the ears and crushed their mouths together. With little effort, she had turned their bodies until his back landed against the mattress unceremoniously. Her small frame followed the motion and sat on his hips, delicate thighs framed his own, and hands braced on his chest for balance. As an instinct, his hands held onto round thighs and pulled closer until she had no doubt whatsoever of how much he needed her at that moment.

The silver chain dangled from her neck, between their bodies, and caught the light. His eyes were still a dark shade of blue. They shifted between hers and the necklace and from the slight twitch in his lips she could tell he was nervous, which was a rare occurrence.

"What is this?" She gently asked, hoping to dissuade the insecure thoughts that ran through his mind.

"A present." He had shrugged casually then, trying to mask anxiety. "Do you like it?"

The question had come out in a trembling whisper, as if he had been afraid she would abominate his romantic gesture, or think he had gone too far and made her uncomfortable. It could not have been farther from the truth. Nevertheless, there had been something intriguing about seeing a usually confidant man, even if occasionally cocky, exposing his insecurities.

Over the years she had witnessed a drastic change in his behavior, a growth into his own self, where he lost the mask of arrogance used for self-preservation. That had been a disguise to hide the fact that below the surface of the stoic warrior lay a caring and sensitive man which sole drive in life was to protect those in need. It had not taken long for her to see through that particular façade and discover the wonderful man he truly was. That was the man she had fallen in love with, even though it had taken far too long and a lot of heartache to admit it to herself.

More often now, his feelings were exposed to the world which was a consequence of the fine line they walked between the violent tactics and emotional connections demanded by their job. Even so, there was still an entire spectrum of sentiments that he only showed to her, like the uncertainty that had shone in his eyes that morning.

Thankfully, she knew exactly how to erase those doubts. She had lowered her body then, allowed her small length to cover his, skin against skin, and let the pendants rest on his chest. An inquisitive finger caressed the _J_ and Peace symbol attached to the silver chain.

The gesture alone was thoughtful, but the choice of pendants caught her off guard. Knowing perfectly well how passionate he was, she had expected he would unleash his romantic side in spite of the secrecy that involved their status quo. In truth, she had never cared for the holiday, nor for the gifts and grand gestures that usually accompanied it. But as she looked at that necklace, which was an honest reflection of herself, she could not control the swell of affection building inside. With such simplicity and beauty carved in silver, she felt loved and the happiest she had ever been just by having the love of such a wonderful man.

"I love it, Sam." She had whispered sincerely, feeling the prickling of tears in the corner of her eyes.

His face had broken into a magnificent grin back then, full of pride, which showed how genuinely pleased he had been that she had liked the present.

Her lips closed over his in a thankful kiss. Strong arms held her body tightly against his and the necklace was suddenly trapped in between. It had not taken long for the kiss to gain momentum and lead into an ardent play.

With some effort, she unlocked their lips in order to sit again and rest both hands on his chest to support her weight. Their bodies connected and moved as one, full of desire and passion, while she savored the immense fulfillment he gave her. When the languid rhythm of her hips guided by his hands became an urgent motion, her eyes closed and her head fell backwards in a cascade of brown hair down her back.

That morning she had thrown all emotions into the blazing fire their bodies created and let herself be consumed by it.

In the dim light of the club a shiver ran through her while remembering the wonderful way in which they had started the day. Emotions had fluctuated along the hours, and she had been forced to dig deep into memories of the past, painful memories of her own loss that at least were able to save another life. Now she felt calm and mellow next to him.

It had taken them a while, and a psychological evaluation, but they had finally arrived to a place where neither could deny any longer their mutual attraction, both physical and emotional. If they had to be on probation and under a magnifying glass, with their actions closely dissected for any scrap of concern out of line, they might as well take the profit along with the reputation.

 _So hard to define it, but when you find it, you'll know… you'll know…_

Yes, they knew.

Her fingers played with the necklace to the beat of the song without caring if the obvious lack of space between them caused curious stares from his sister and their friend. She vaguely recognized that another, barely concealed, secret might be happening right beside her. But she could not let herself care when he turned and his blue eyes, dark with raw desire, stared into hers with unrestrained devotion and the knowledge that she now carried a token of his love with her.

* * *

Had a hard time writing this one. Thank you for reading.


	4. Till Death Do Us Part

**Title:** Till Death Do Us Part

 **Rating:** K+

 **Timeline:** Season 5

 **A/N:** This idea took a long time to take shape on 'paper', but to me it seemed plausible that a sort of straight forward proposal would come from Jules (again).

* * *

With each intake of breath her lungs filled with the awful disinfectant smell that gave her a headache and brought unpleasant memories to the surface of her mind. She tried to breathe calmly. In and out. Each time, her nostrils flared with that scent and nausea twisted her insides.

She tried to focus her mind on anything else rather than the urge to empty the contents of her stomach on the pristine floor of the hospital, but it seemed a nearly impossible task. That sensation had accompanied her since that morning, and now it was exacerbated with each agonizing moment spent on the waiting room.

The clock on the wall ticked away the hours, seconds echoed in her mind, while her eyes stared blankly at the white wall ahead.

A tissue appeared before her eyes, an offer soaked in solution provided by a friend. She took it and busied herself cleaning the gruesome red stains on her hands, hoping the distraction might calm the storm that raged inside her mind. As the stains gradually disappeared from her fingers and nails she recalled how they had found themselves there in the first place, and why she sat there silently begging for news about him that were taking too long to arrive.

That hot call had gone from under control to hell bound in less than five minutes. A whole new record. They had been slowly climbing the stairs inside the house of a highly dangerous criminal, back to back, relying on each other for coverage. He led the way up, with acute entrance tactics expertise, and she followed his stealth movements with the feel of his vest-covered back against hers as a reliable source of protection. Guns were drawn and eyes alert to sudden movements when it happened.

The first bullet sealed his faith and blazed past her head. The sound still echoed in her ears when a second shot followed without delay. With the agility obtained from years of practice, she had turned around and aimed the MP5, finger ready on the trigger. She then saw the subject already down, lifeless on top of the stairs, taken by her team mate's bullet. There had been no time for compliments on such a precise shot, because said team mate was slowly disappearing from her peripheral vision. Her arms had instinctively moved forward to catch his falling body but he hit the stairs hard even though she had tried to brace the fall with her own smaller figure.

Blood oozed from his shoulder and soaked the uniform where the Kevlar vest had failed to ensure protection from the bullet that had found its way through. Panic shook her body violently while her mind remained oddly alert as if they had disconnected from one another. Basic instincts had controlled her actions so her hand had covered the wound immediately.

A multitude of voices screamed in the piece attached to her ear. Her own voice, on the verge of hysteria, had answered back requesting help. The blood sipped between her fingers in spite of the pressure they applied. His blue eyes, which earlier had been clear and cheerful as a perfect summer day, had looked at her apologetically while slowly filling with clouds. Her own brown eyes locked with his and she whispered for him to hold on, over and over again akin to a pleading mantra. She noticed with detached surprise that drops were falling on his cheeks as she stared down at him and belatedly had realized she was crying.

At some point, breathing had become difficult and his lugs worked hard to consume precious amounts of air. His mouth moved as if trying to say something but no words came out, instead his hand came up to rest gently above hers. That had been the last clear action her mind registered before he lost conscience.

Time flew abnormally slow while the surroundings transformed into a blur of uniforms and sirens. When the rushing of adrenaline subsided from her veins, she had found herself being guided to a chair in the hospital as their Sergeant spoke words of comfort her brain refused to understand.

"Are you colleagues of Samuel Braddock?" A voice cut through her memories of the incident and the silence in the room.

All team mates promptly rose from their seats and approached the surgeon that walked towards them.

"Yes, how is he?" The question came from the team leader beside her. She had intended to ask herself, only she realized that a lump of nerves had formed in her throat preventing any form of coherent speech.

"He just got off surgery, it was a clean shot wound at intermediate range with no fragments. He is stable, but still unconscious due to anesthesia. There is currently a minor risk of infection, but I foresee a quick recovery with medication and the aid of physical therapy to the shoulder."

She heard the doctor meticulously relay how _lucky_ he had been. Although the bullet had missed the subclavian artery and main nerves, it had still perforated blood vessels and a few of the shoulder ligaments had to be repaired. All things considered, he had been fortunate indeed.

"Can I see him now?" She finally spoke, voice filled with anxiety.

"Are you his wife?" The doctor asked politely.

 _Not yet._ Her brain silently supplied _._ "No, but I'm his girlfriend. I should be able to see him now."

The doctor looked at her sympathetically. "At this point only primary support individuals are permitted to enter ICU recovery rooms for visits. Patients may only be visited by non-family members two hours after surgery."

"But we're his colleagues. We _are_ his family!" Anger flared through her veins and pumped an uncontrollable flush on her cheeks. Knowing he was well was not enough to calm her senses. She had a vital need to see with her own eyes that he was still breathing, feel the blood rush through his veins, and place her head on his chest to hear, and be assured, that his heart still beat steadily underneath.

"I am afraid Constable Braddock only has his parents assigned as primary support." The doctor said while looking through the medical papers.

That statement was received as a stream of cold water down her body. It figured that those papers, which remained in a neat pile on her coffee table, would come back to haunt her. Months have passed between the day their names were signed as next of kin to each other, and this very day. Somehow, amidst the complete chaos of their lives, those papers had been forgotten on behalf of other time consuming activities.

With a sarcastic chuckle she realized that time always seemed to be running short when they were concerned.

"They are not here at the moment." She said, taking a deep calming breath and looking with pleading eyes towards the doctor. "There sure can be an exception for me to see him."

She moved towards the recovery rooms only to be immediately stopped by the taller frame of the doctor, which looked down at her with growing impatience.

"Constable Callaghan, you are a professional of the law, and as such you know better than anyone that rules are meant to be followed. This policy was created to prevent additional stress to the already fragile patient. There can be no exceptions." The doctor said firmly, already too exhausted to deal with obstacles to rules that needed to be enforced. Or to waste time with obstinate relatives, even if they were police officers.

The doctor then turned directly to the other officers in the group, which regarded her with a mixture of gratitude and irritation, and continued calmly. "Due to previous incidents with family tumults during extended visiting hours the administrative board saw fit to revoke that policy and instate a controlled visiting procedure that has the patient's best interest at heart."

"You may visit two hours from now." The doctor added apologetically and walked away.

Trembling hands covered her face, then a sob of both relief and sorrow escaped her lips. She let her body collapse into a chair and prepared for the two hour long struggle.

They were used to run, fight, getting shot or blown up, all in a day's work. She was constantly aware of the hazards of the job and was able to maintain objectivity. But she was only human, which scared her, because it meant being prone to failure. The problem was that failure in their line of work often translated into pain or eventually loss. As it turned out he too came attached to that risk. Just when she thought her path ran on a straight line with every detail under control, he had crashed into her life unexpectedly and brought a whole new set of implications and self-awareness. And even though the pros of loving him weighted far more than the cons, incidents like this reminded her of how quickly she could lose him.

Today had scared her to the core, and she hoped to never again feel his life essence soak her hands. That memory alone will give her nightmares for many years to come. But she was sure that between their job and his natural alpha male tendencies of protection, it would not be her last time in this place, being nauseated by the smell while anxiety crept over her skin.

At one point or another, all her colleagues approached with kind words of support and all she could do was silently nod to assure them she had not gone completely hollow inside. That only made her feel his absence even more. If he was by her side he would know exactly what to say in order to calm her down, and if that should fail, his understanding silence would be enough.

In moments such as this, time often seemed a paradoxical perception. Each minute felt like an eternity while she stared at the hands of the clock and irrationally willed them to move faster. She thought about him meanwhile, and how he remained alone, confined to a bed surrounded by sterile walls. As it was, there would be no friendly face to greet him when he woke up.

Over time she grew restless in her seat and took to the floor, pacing back and forth away from the watchful eyes of her friends. Worry was evident in all their faces and instead of serving as comfort it only fuelled her anxiety.

Long gone were the days where their moves had been under scrutiny, when they had to become experts at managing a clandestine life. These were new times without limitations except for the ones imposed by themselves in order to maintain professional integrity. Still, it did not mean they should remain insensitive to each other's suffering in the line of duty, now more than ever. Nevertheless, she walked towards the corridor so they would not be private to the fresh tears that were blurring her vision yet again.

In the distance she observed a couple walking around at a slow pace. The man held the woman closely, supporting her unsteady weight due to a leg injury, while she leaned heavily on his arm. A flash of memory burst through her brain. In what felt like a lifetime ago, they had been in the same position. For the first time in years, she had allowed herself to lean on someone else for physical and emotional support during one of the most challenging times of her life.

Back then, they had opened to each other and what good had that done? She knew exactly the risks their relationship carried and the lines it crossed, and yet she had not been able to stop the attraction nor the inevitable end. A few weeks after leaving the hospital she had pulled his heart out and walked all over the broken pieces. Apparently it had made him think that was how her work-focused, no nonsense self repaid kindness. What she had not allowed him to know was that the decision had been made at the expense of her own heart as well.

Since then she had often wondered if it had been a blessing in disguise. Over the span of the years where their feelings oscillated between longing and jealousy, they had grown individually and came back into a mature relationship with a clear sense about the future. And yet such future seemed a mirage since she remained outside his recovery room not even being recognized as family.

A shimmer on the right hand of the woman caught her attention. The engagement ring sparkled under the bright lights on the corridor. She smiled sadly when her own hand tingled with a yearning sensation. Only a few times in her life had she taken the liberty to think about the possibility of marriage. The idea was not completely abstract to her, but those thoughts were always accompanied by the fear of not finding the right person, one that understood the requirements of her job or that was willing to constantly compromise.

Even though the marriage success rate in the police force was statistically low, it seemed that while men balanced both areas fairly easily, it was much more of a struggle for a police woman to successfully manage both work and family. If her dating life had been any indication, it showed that both might be incompatible. That was until he came along, with his big blue eyes and a devotion that knocked her off guard and made her believe that it might be possible. Without her realizing, he had burned through all her defenses and unleashed those dreams she feared might never come true.

On their first attempt as a couple, he had stated he was ready for the long term and would stick around for as long as she would want him, which was what had prompted her to tease him on their second time around.

When the _hypothetical_ honeymoon suggestion had earned a positive answer from him, she was sure her heart would have leaped out of her chest if not for the vest securely placed around her. Although that particular conversation had been a humorous one, as often were their approaches to some personal matters, the implications were clear. His final comic remark had rewarded him a firm punch on the arm, but his answer had settled her fears.

Well, she wanted him for a very, very long time. For the time it would take to reach those deathbed confessions she could not promise to anyone else.

Her mind wandered among the possibilities of a future together as a way to pass the time until she saw the doctor returning and entering his room. She noticed the hand of the clock on the wall had finally completed two full turns. A while later the doctor exited the room with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Constable Braddock is conscious now and responding well to the combination of antibiotic and heparin." The doctor said as a matter-of-fact to the surrounding officers that waited expectantly for an update. With a kinder tone she addressed the only woman in the group. "He is also asking for you, but…"

She did not wait for the sentence to be finished and barged into the room as fast as her legs could move. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light inside and immediately saw his large body resting on the bed. He looked lonesome and slightly pale, a brutal contrast to the strong and lively man he was. When their eyes made contact and his face lit with a brilliant, although groggy smile her heart threatened to burst off her chest.

"We need to get married, Sam!" She blurted out, followed by her eyes opening wide in surprise. Of all the things that had passed through her mind since he was shot, and all she had wanted to say as soon as she laid eyes on him, that statement had not been on the top of the list.

"Yes!" He responded automatically, only taking a second to realize the content of her statement. "What?" Confusion followed suit, and he briefly considered that it all might just be a side-effect of anesthesia.

For sure, she could not be standing there in the hospital room, still dressed in uniform, and demanding matrimony. He blinked several times to clear the hazy cloud in his eyes, but she was still there, as real as the sun rays that slipped through the window, and wriggling her hands in an anxious manner.

The last image burned on his mind was of that lovely face in and out of focus before everything went black. She had been crying, he could tell by the dry tracks on her cheeks and the desolated shine in the brown eyes he adored so much. Being the cause of her distress made pain settle on his heart and keep company to the throbbing on his right shoulder.

She looked impossibly smaller then, nearly engulfed by the weight of her uniform and the worry she felt. Yet, for the first time their height difference was not a source of humor to him, but a blessing that allowed her to emerge unscathed from their earlier ordeal. Getting shot was of no consequence if it meant she remained safe.

"For the past two hours, I've been sitting outside waiting to see you, Sam. I was not allowed sooner because we are not related!" She said in an angry whisper that faded between the cracks of her voice.

He grunted completely annoyed with himself for the lack of anticipation of such a scenario and for postponing his responsibilities.

"I'm sorry, Jules!"

His left hand moved forward, beckoning to her so the distance between them could be shortened and once again they would be able to touch. The sudden movement made pain course through his right side in spite of the painkillers administered. As a left handed shooter by default it meant his right was often unprotected, while his dominant side remained unharmed.

Flashes of pain pulsed down his right arm and numbed all sensation on his fingertips. He was quite experienced in the art of getting injured, but this time he sensed that the recovery would be a painful one.

Sensing his distress, she immediately rushed forward, held fiercely onto his hand and sat on the bed.

"It's not your fault."

"I should have delivered the new medical papers sooner." He said with regret and brought their joined hands closer to drop a kiss on hers. "But I like your option a lot more anyway." The characteristic lopsided grin finally appeared on his face.

They had teased each other about it before, but he could see in her eyes that it was no joke this time. From the beginning he knew he wanted to be by her side for the long term, which fortunately also involved blurted marriage proposals and a not-so hypothetical honeymoon. Countless times while he held her against him at night, those thoughts had reeled in his mind and taken an increasingly tangible shape. And when she asked he already had the answers prepared.

"Will you marry me, then?" She asked hopefully.

"Yes." The anesthetic haze was long gone, and he smiled in retribution to the first smile he saw on her face since that morning. "You stole my moment though!" He added with a chuckle.

" _Your_ moment?" A well-defined dark eyebrow lifted in challenge, but a barely concealed smile played on her lips.

"The proposal is the only part of a wedding that a man has some sort of control over." He said with a mock pout and what he hoped was his most heart touching stare.

Ever since they had been cleared for duty in spite of their personal business, a perfect idea had formed in his mind which he had hoped would accompany the ring that currently lay hidden in a drawer on _their_ bedroom.

He pulled on their joined hands until she caught on his intention. Aware of his injury, she moved on the bed and allowed her body to lay beside him, disregarding all hospital protocols on behalf of being able to feel his heart beating strong under her hand. She rested her head in his left shoulder and sighed, allowing the tension to leave her body.

"Alright then, I'll let you ask me properly once you recover." She whispered while placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. "How are you feeling?"

He looked down at her and saw lingering fragments of sadness. They had been present since her small hand covered his wound and he tried to convey the words that might have been his last ones before being engulfed by oblivion.

"Much better now that you are here." He whispered while placing a kiss on her forehead. All pain was forgotten for a moment.

Genuine delight brightened her eyes and even though her feelings fluctuated often according to her compassionate nature, he silently promised to make happiness the most permanent emotion in her life for as long as he lived.

* * *

 **A/N:** Getting shot on the shoulder is not a walk on the park. But, it is less lethal than being shot between the ears and easier for literary purposes since this is a short story and I don't want to kill Sam!

Also, over the years as a patient, or visit at hospitals, I've encountered some very annoying policies that not only keep changing but can be a little exaggerated as well, like in this case.

Ironically, I am heading now to the hospital for a check-up on my scoliosis.

I'm really proud of this story. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.


	5. Happy Jules Day

**Title:** Happy Jules Day

 **Rating:** T

 **Timeline:** A month after Season 4, Episode 10: The Cost of Doing Business

* * *

It was late afternoon when misty clouds started to fill the small bathroom for the second time that day. The dense condensation made the remnants of a note appear on the mirror. He had written it with a finger on the foggy surface after his morning shower before leaving for work.

 _Happy Jules day!_

When she woke up a few hours later, and walked into the bathroom with sleep still clouding her eyes, she was immediately greeted by those words. That had made her laugh and some of the nerves that had settled on her stomach in the previous night subsided for a while. His thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze her.  
Today had been her day off, one she had insisted against. But Sergeant had been inflexible, stating that it would allow her to commemorate the honorable recognition she had been given as the law enforcement professional of the year, and prepare for the gala later that night.

Gasping sounds now echoed in the bathroom, coming from beyond the foggy glass of the shower, the source of the steam. Her hands were spread open against the cold tiles for support, as water poured over their joined bodies. His forehead rested on her shoulder, while his large hands pulled her hips eagerly against his in a desperate rhythm. Her head rolled back to rest on his chest, allowing him unrestricted access to her skin. It tempted him, so he bit the delicate spot at the base of her neck. A loud moan, from the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure, escaped her slightly parted lips and vibrated against the tiles.

Encouraged by her reaction, he increased the pace until their combined moans rose above the sound of the hot water cascading down their overheated bodies. One of her hands reached up, tangled itself on his wet hair and pulled him harder against her. As he yielded to the pleasure with a loud groan against her neck, she closed her eyes tightly while a warm rush pushed through her veins and took over her body.

When the frenzy subsided, his arms held her securely against his body after sensing a slight quivering on her legs. He too was somewhat unsteady, blinded by mist and a tunnel vision that only saw the expanse of her glistening skin.  
Their breaths came out in heavy pants, and she felt his chest rise and fall against the naked skin of her back. To her amazement, he then kissed her neck tenderly and soothed the red mark he made with his teeth, which she would need to cover with an excess of makeup.

That thought made the fog of bliss within her mind clear to some extent and remember their obligation. She had intended for a quick shower alone, but knew right away and from experience, that no water would be saved as soon as he joined her.

"We need to get ready or we'll be late, Sam." She whispered unconvincingly, even to herself.

The last thing she wanted was to leave that cozy atmosphere, as well as the security his arms provided, and face the fact that to the outside world, they were nothing but friends.

He hummed casually, as his lips continued to burn a fiery trail over the exposed skin of her neck.

Regardless of the wonderful way he was making her feel _again_ , she detached herself from him. She reached for a bottle on the shelf of the shower hoping to speed the process along and eliminate any other ideas from his mind. Her hands, gleaming with a flowery scented gel, travelled over the span of his chest, shoulders and arms, leaving a soapy trail behind. Small bubbles detached from her lathered fingers and floated away. She inhaled deeply to calm the pounding of her heart, and wondered briefly to herself if anyone ever noticed how they frequently smelled of the same body wash.

Once they successfully finished showering, each went in separate directions to get ready. Otherwise they would never be able to leave on time. It was in moments like this that she envied men. They never had to go through such grueling beauty processes, of perfectly combing the hair or applying the right amount of makeup to enhance their appearance. In all fairness, she loved to dress up and look as feminine as she always felt in her daily life, but it always took an inconvenient amount of time. She busied herself drying her hair while he went into the bedroom to put on his shirt and suit.

With her hair pinned up and curled in soft waves with the curling iron he had found so fascinating once, she moved to the bedroom and noticed he was gone. Probably in search of the shoes he had forgotten in the living room earlier. A black dress and red heels waited for her by the bed. She breathed out a sigh, feeling anxious all over again.

For that brief and extremely satisfying moment in the shower, he had been able to make her forget about the pressure that was on her shoulders tonight, and how she should conduct herself under the careful watch of their friends and superiors.  
Since she woke up, a nervous feeling had been growing on her stomach in anticipation for the evening. Although she welcomed the honor of being considered the best professional of the year, which she dstrive to be every day, she was not used to be the center of attention. It had taken her only half an hour to write a full speech that covered her dedication to the job, accomplishments and a heartfelt thanks to those that made it possible. But the problem did not reside on the actual moment when the spot light would be on her, which would undeniably make her slightly uncomfortable.

She contemplated what the rest of the evening would be like as she sat on the bed absently staring at the blue wall in front of her. Something else had been bothering her ever since the day when their boss arrived unnoticed at her house with coffee and good news. In return, he had been rewarded with the reality of a secret and the implications it brought. Sergeant had been livid that morning. But by the end of the shift they had proved to be trustworthy and professional, which had earned them a sort of blessing from him. That is exactly why she won the award in recognition of exemplary service in the line of duty, for her ability to be rational on the job, her personal life notwithstanding.

However, the implications were terrible. Now more than ever, they would need to restrain their emotions, looks and touches or face dire consequences, which now involved another person both cared for deeply.

She could sense a figurative clock ticking away the minutes until that one moment when they would make a mistake.

A while later he came back into the bedroom and saw that she was still dressed in a towel, held tightly around her body. He remembered the first time he ever saw her like that and his fingers immediately itched to touch the bare skin of her back. But she sat on the edge of the bed with a thoughtful expression on her face that made him rethink his actions. He approached carefully and sat beside her.

"What's wrong, Jules?" He asked softly, noticing that she would not turn to him.

"I don't think I can go to the gala." She whispered, her voice on the verge of tears.

"Why not? Today is Jules day!" He said enthusiastically, hoping it would be contagious enough so she would feel a little better and dissuade whatever gloomy thoughts plagued her mind.

"Exactly." Exasperation was growing on her voice, and she rolled her eyes at his attempt to cheer her up.

When he noticed frustration ran deeper than he anticipated, he became rather serious and reached for one of her hands. He squeezed it tightly, conveying his full support, but there was no reaction from her.  
"What do you mean?"

"I've worked really had to get this job. Twice! And worked even harder to be the best I could be."  
She recalled all the struggles she had to face since making the contradictory decision to go against her father's wishes and become a police officer. All the demanding psychological and physical qualifications she had methodically prepared for and successfully aced. And more importantly, the struggle she went through to be taken seriously as a female in a world predominantly made of men. None of that had discouraged her, she had always been an over achiever anyway.

"I know you did, that is precisely why you are being recognized for it tonight." He said while delicately turning her face towards him, so she could see how honestly he spoke. "You can't miss it, Jules."

Looking into his clear blue eyes, and his hopeful smile, she saw a man that in spite of all the challenges their relationship provided, was still by her side, encouraging her. She finally revealed what had been stuck on her mind for the better part of the last month.

"I'm good and perfectly capable to do this job, but it means nothing without my team, especially you." She placed her hands softly on each side of his face, her thumbs caressed his cheeks as she spoke. "Sam, don't you see? It doesn't make any sense not being able to share this moment with you in front of everyone."

"Because tonight we'll have to be extra careful around each other since all eyes will be on you?"

"Yes." She sighed sadly. "We'll have to smile, pretend our way through the night and hope they believe there is nothing between us except friendship."

"And how is that different from what we already do every day?" He reasoned. His arms enveloped her small frame and pulled her against him. His fingers promptly indulged in his previous temptation of caressing her soft bare skin.

"All I wanted to do was to enjoy the night, and to dance with you just for a moment without constantly wondering if it's going to be interpreted the wrong way." She whispered burying her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder, inhaling his scent deeply.

"Me too. But I promise everything will be fine." He said sincerely. Then his eyes spotted the dress she would be wearing and a lopsided grin appeared on his face. "I might need a blindfold so I won't gawk at you, but otherwise it will be fine."

"Sam! None of that." She warned.

He looked down at her and placed a tender kiss on her lips. Her hand travelled from neck to the back of his head and pulled him harder towards her. She kissed him fiercely, the last real taste of him she would allow herself before the night ended.

He was right. It was her night, even if not under ideal circumstances. She fully appreciated the recognition for her hard work and would do her best to behave near him. As hard as it was, she was sure he would do the same.

He stood up, pulled her from the bed and into his embrace. She then noticed the tie hanging loose around his neck. Her hands held onto the two ends and expertly made an intricate knot. As the only female left to assume certain responsibilities in a house with five men, she had been forced to pick up some useful skills along the way ever since she was fifteen.

Time flew by as she finished getting ready, and as she walked down the stairs he was already waiting, with a wonderful smile that illuminated his face. They stared at each other, completely lost in their own world, but soon enough the honk of a car broke their reverie. Sergeant Parker had arrived to escort her to the gala, and he would follow later in his own car.

"When you get up on that stage, and deliver that witty speech of yours, just remember that I'll be in the crowd, immensely proud of you." He said with an encouraging smile.

Her lips, expertly tainted with a pale red color, twisted between a pout and a smile. His own lips dropped a chaste kiss on her forehead and he watched her walk out the door, leaving a trace of perfume behind.

* * *

The drive back home was long and uncomfortably silent. She was quite aware of the apprehensive looks her boss threw at her once in a while. To avoid conversation, or she would not be able to restrain from speaking her mind, her eyes focused on the vibrant city lights that passed by outside the window of the car.

When they arrived at her driveway, she finally looked at him and a portion of her frustration melted away as soon as he stated how proud he was of her. His brave and kindhearted right hand. She felt tears pool in her eyes. There was also a hint of compassion in his voice that she could not ignore, which made her wonder if he also understood how bittersweet that night had been for her.

She recalled the events of the evening as she walked up the steps to the front door of her house. To be honored as officer of the year in front of the entire police force and endorsers, pleased her immensely, not only as a professional, but as a woman in the SRU as well. And yet, she had not been allowed to celebrate her proudest moment too close to the person she loved the most.

Even their seats at the dinner table were a safe distance away, preventing any kind of neutral conversation. It became clear early on that it was imperative to avoid exchanging longing looks when they thought no one was watching. The only time she had allowed herself to look at him without restriction, was during her speech. And knew right away his earlier words had been true.

They had spent the remaining of night apart, and she had the distinct impression that Sergeant Parker had stirred her farther away from him to politely introduce her to other guests on purpose.

Her blue eyed man had looked handsome in a suit. And she had not been the only one thinking the same. A few other elegantly dressed women, likely acquaintances from his short years spent at the 51 division, had the pleasure of taking him to the dance floor. In spite of is obvious reluctance.

Instead of letting irrational jealousy surface, she had danced her way through the night with plenty of men, including her own friends. He had smirked to no one in particular when he saw that, but she knew there was a challenge directed at her somewhere on that smile. So every time he was dragged to the dance floor by an eager woman, she would pick an eligible man and enjoy as much as she could. Suddenly, they were playing a highly dangerous game, unbeknownst to everyone else in the room. In reality, all she wanted was to dance with him, but discretion had dictated otherwise.

She grumbled under her breath while unlocking the front door of her home. The lights inside the living room were dim and she noticed that music was playing on the stereo.

He had arrived at her house first and was standing in the middle of the room, looking dashing, with eyes sparkling in the dim light. Upon her arrival, he held an inviting hand towards her. She smiled brightly and walked the short distance with heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She took his hand and let her body be swayed by his to the mellow sounds of the song he chose. And as he whispered in her ear how proud he was, she just rested her head over his chest, finally feeling completely happy.

Every day from now on would feel like walking around with a metaphorical axe over their necks, waiting for failure to wreck their careers. Yet, there was absolutely no part in her that would want to exchange him, and the happiness he gave her, for a peaceful life without secrets.

Looking back to the events of the night, she realized that awards were of no real importance. She did her job with a sense of responsibility to save lives at the cost of her own if necessary, and enforced the law so others could enjoy a relative sense of freedom. It fulfilled her plenty enough. Everything else she needed in that moment was currently within the circle of her arms, smiling down at her with pride and love in his clear blue eyes.

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Make me a happy person and please leave a review! It won't take long.

Thank you for reading.


	6. All Strings Attached

**Title:** All Strings Attached

 **Rating:** T

 **Pairing:** Sam / Jules

 **Timeline:** After Season 5

 **A/N 1:** This story is based on a particular idea in the original script of the Pilot episode that eventually got re-written to become Scorpio. There were some _strange_ character interactions, and the female wasn't even Jules. However, Sam's character was the same, but he had a very interesting skill. I _had_ to write about it!

 **A/N 2:** Dear _Guests,_ you are wonderful people! Thank you for taking the time to review my stories. It makes me really happy.

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As soon as she left the cozy atmosphere of the house and stepped into the front porch, her cheeks turned vibrantly pink from the cold. A shiver suddenly crossed her body and upon seeing her reaction to the autumn weather, he secured the red scarf comfortably around her neck. It sheltered her against the wind that started to blow outside their home as the sun sank low in the sky and bathed the front yard with golden shades.

She smiled patiently at him while he carefully wrapped the intricate cotton scarf around her neck, but said nothing otherwise.

He knew she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and it remained a constant battle between her independent nature and his protective instincts. But lately, she became increasingly receptive to his displays of concern, and often even craved his affectionate gestures and the constant comfort he offered. In the past few months he also watched another side of her personality blossom, a nurturing side he knew was instinctively part of her nature but had never been so candid before. And in spite of the frequent mood changes, she had an overwhelming sense of happiness. He too felt different, and although his tendency for concern was stronger than ever, it seemed that a smile had been permanently carved on his face.

He smiled back at her once he was certain she was comfortable and would not be cold. With a soft kiss on her lips he said goodbye and closed the front door as she slowly walked out towards the car.

He climbed the stairs with the intention of collapsing on the bed and have a quick nap before she came back. Exhaustion from an early morning workout, combined with a grueling shift, was slowly settling on his weary muscles. Hints of a headache started to pulse on his temples.  
When he reached the first floor, he instinctively stopped in front of one of the rooms with its door slightly opened. He leaned on the door frame and admired how the rays of sunset painted orange shades on the walls and illuminated the new contents inside the room.

A peculiar silence filled the house, somewhat in contrast to the tumultuous activities that had been happening there for the past few weeks. As time progressed, and the warm breeze of summer gave way to the fallen leafs of autumn that particular room in the house suffered once again from his wife's passion for renovations. This time, he too had embraced the project enthusiastically, and had shared his own ideas in a combined effort that had filled many hours with heated discussions.

Heavy boxes had piled up against the walls. Donations and presents from friends, which got carried away as much as they did in shopping sprees, occupied nearly every free space available in the house. That previous disorganized state of affairs had made moving around in their fairly large home a chaotic experience. Especially for her.

Due to her mobility restrictions he had done most of the heavy work, while she had managed every detail from patterns, to colors and furniture arrangements. As a pro-active woman and renovation enthusiast, at the beginning she had been slightly annoyed with the inability to participate as much as she had wanted. But she had soon found pleasure in carefully selecting clothes and all other items that slowly transformed the room into a little piece of heaven. He gladly noticed that the distraction had also made her less prone to miss the real action of the job in the early days of the tedious desk duty she loathed so much.

He looked around the room, admired the finished product of their combined ideas and smiled proudly to himself. A light lavender shade, which had taken her almost two hours at the store to choose, colored the walls. The room had been painted only by him this time, even though temptation had her throw splashes of paint all over him on one particular afternoon when she had felt quite playful. That memory played in his mind. He grinned widely while remembering how he had carried her away to their bed, and the way the paint that had colored his skin had found its way to her skin as well. The frequency of their passionate moments might have decreased as her body changed with time, but the desire and intensity had remained the same.

He walked into the room, sat on the white armchair against a pink pillow, and relaxed in the peaceful atmosphere of the newly finished nursery. His eyes fell on a set of items that had been left in a small basket on the floor. Countless times before, he had watched from the doorway while she tried her way with them, only to end up with disastrous results that had her grunting in frustration.

He reached down for the items. It had been years since he had used those, but the brain was a marvelous structure that immediately recollected memories of skills triggered only by a simple touch. It was muscle memory that had him twist the items in his hands expertly. A wrinkle of concentration formed between his eyes as his hands started to work steadily.

He had acquired that skill soon after coming back from his second tour in Afghanistan. That had been a time in his life where nothing had made sense anymore and his soul seemed to have shattered into million irreparable pieces. Accidentally, he had discovered a new ability with his hands other than killing. It turned to be a source of serenity, which had helped him more than he ever admitted to anyone.

The premise of being a soldier required the rational acceptance of death as an inevitable part of life, but he had already learned that painful lesson early on. The brutal loss of his little sister in front of his eyes had ripped the first hole in the middle of his life, and many others had followed since then. The army had only made death familiar. Loss was ever-present in his life, and pain had been the only thing real for a long time.

The possibility of his own death did not scare him, and once he had accepted the inevitable outcome, he became fearless and empowered with a sense of freedom that made him push harder and faster across the sands with each mission. Without second guesses, without hesitations that came from a place of fear, he had only relied on his instincts to make life or death decisions. But being the best long range marksman came with a price. One he did not fully understand until he had to fit himself back into the reality of the life he had before going to war.

Once he came home, his parents had made sure that the best military psychologist poked and probed his mind into exhaustion, only to find no traces of severe traumatic disorders. On that account he felt one of the lucky ones. Many had succumbed to its dark depths on the aftermath of their return.

However, more often than he admitted, his mind went back to that sandbox with gunfire as the soundtrack to the horrific nightmare of war. Two tours had been enough to nearly shape him into a shadow of the person he had been before. A shell of himself that desperately needed to hold on to the pieces that were left of his old self in order to remain fundamentally human.

Proudly serving his country with bravery had earned him medals of recognition, but it also meant that essential parts of his soul had been buried in that land. He had been sure they would never be recovered.  
Open wounds inevitably closed and healed, the scars were the only reminders of a painful past. And he had plenty of those scattered across his body. But his mind carried open wounds that would never fully heal. The memories were vivid on his mind and every sleepless night had served to remind him that he would never be whole again.

In spite of the mental and physical exhaustion, or the ever growing death count on his already long list, he would have stayed in the military to please his father and fulfill his protective core values, if it had not been for a terrible mistake.

He rationally knew he was not completely at fault, he had only been following orders from two kilometers away. And he never missed. In the aftermath, he saw the lifeless eyes of his best friend starring at the cloudless blue sky, the dreadful result of his accuracy. The claws of guilt had gripped at his heart and refused to let go ever since.  
Nearly every night after he came back, he relived that shot over and over again until exhaustion would claim his body in the morning. The flashes of memories came without warning, brief moments suspended in time, of the friendship they had shared. Unfortunately, they also tangled with nightmares of the unspeakable horrors he witnessed and even suffered himself.

Back home, he would often spend days immersed in the darkness of his bedroom, hours melted into one another until he could no longer distinguish day and night. As time passed, he became gradually aware of his mother's tentative approaches, with worry so heavy in her eyes that he always averted his own with shame. She would sit on the edge of his bed in silence, knowing by previous attempts that he would not answer her questions. Her fingers would simply caress his short blonde hair in that comforting way only a mother could do, which brought him to a place in is childhood where he had not yet felt that kind of pain.

His father had been a completely different matter. At a distance he had heard his sharp displeasure with irritation ever-present in his voice. He had heard that particular tone all his life. He was used to it already. The difference had been that an edge of concern had entered his speech, and for the first time in his life he had wondered if his father truly cared about him. Nevertheless, his father was already working at forcing him back into a police position that would allow him to make good use of his skills.

He carried the pain and guilt silently, as if they were badges of honor upon his heart, and moved on. That was what was expected of him, how the son of a General should honorably conduct himself. Resilience, one of his strongest personality traits, made him functional enough, but the pain lurked constantly behind his blue eyes.

His funny jokes slowly became quips dripping with sarcasm, his eyes were devoid of the happiness of times gone by. It caught him by surprise how rapidly his emotions would change. Every sensation seemed heightened, emotions played at the surface of his skin and stirred in his mind to the point when they would become unbearable. Not that he would allow anyone to truly notice. On the outside he kept a stoic composure reminiscent of the soldier that he was, a mask that would allow him the appearance of composure. Inside, anxiety would build in the pit of his stomach at any given time.

At length, he tried to fix a smile on his face, if not to assure others at least to fool himself into thinking everything was fine. But one day, when he felt like anxiety would finally splatter his brain across the walls, he ventured outside his room and aimlessly wandered around the house. Soon he had found himself in the living room, his mother seating on an armchair, much like the one he sat now.

She had a thoughtful expression on her face, eyes focused on a handcraft task while quietly humming a song. He watched as she worked magic with her hands and transformed simple thread into beautiful pieces. He had been mesmerized, and leaned on the door frame for a long time. After a while his mother looked up and saw him standing there, with tears in his eyes. She had opened her arms to him without uttering a single word. He had fallen into the comfort of her motherly embrace and let out the pain he felt inside.

Instead of hiding away, every day he sat beside his mother and simply watched her work, as if all worries that ached both their hearts were forgotten for that brief moment in time. As his eyes followed her expert movements, he felt a sense of comfort and calm invade him, both feelings that had eluded him for so long. And for the first time in what felt an entire lifetime, he genuinely smiled, somewhat at ease again.

Ever since that day he had applied his mind to the task and at large he found that, the rhythmic, repetitive motion and the sense of focus, offered him a controlled freedom of mind that allowed him to work through his anxiety and salvage some of the broken pieces of his soul.

It had required patience and an impressive amount of yarn to understand that even though time does not heal, it stretches the pain to make it bearable. And along the way there will be people that might love him enough to share the weight of his burdens without judgement. His wife was one of them.

In the silence of the nursery he worked steadily through the thread, even though his large hands lacked the dexterity of his mothers. The size was tricky, but with each move of his fingers a little pink shape took form. He was so immersed in the task he did not hear the front door shut close and soft steps that signaled her arrival.

"Sam?" She called out halfway through the stairs. These days it took a while longer to maneuver her way around.

"Hey, Jules!" He nervously shouted, his voice jumping five octaves higher.

When she entered the nursery he quickly shoved the items he had been working on behind the pillow. He then stood abruptly from the armchair while his heart threatened to burst off his chest. With his sudden movement a ball of pink yarn fell from his lap and bounced on the wood floor. It rolled forward, leaving a trail of pink behind, until it stopped by her feet.

She looked between his eyes, which were opened wide in surprise, and the small ball on the floor. One eyebrow lifted in amusement and a smile began to form on her lips.

"What were you doing?" She asked.

"Ah…hmm…" He tried to form words to explain his predicament, but embarrassment colored his cheeks as time passed by and no coherent speech came out.

"Are you hiding something, Sam?" While she watched him fidgeting nervously with his hands, an action that was not characteristic of him, she crossed her arms expectantly.

When he did not answer right away, he sensed her mood shift slightly from amusement towards impatience, and he did not want to ignite the wrath of his pregnant wife. He sighed deeply, knowing perfectly well he owed her the truth no matter how comical it was.

Crossing the short distance between them, he reached down and picked the ball of yarn from the floor. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh."

"Okay." She agreed with growing concern, watching the strange mixture of seriousness and amusement that played in his eyes.

"I was knitting." He finally admitted out loud for the very first time in his life.

Brown eyes widened. For a split second her brain conjured an image of him working the delicate pink yarn with his capable hands, which was such a contrast to everything she knew of him, that it seemed unrealistic. Then her face contorted trying to contain the laughter that began to shake her body.

"You are laughing!" He accused with no real malice and was infected by the mirth in her eyes right away. His own lips struggled to contain the smirk that threatened to appear.

"No…" She said with a snort. "Just a little. I'm sorry!" A delicate hand covered her lips.

Nodding silently with a lopsided grin, he carefully rolled the yarn into a neat ball again. He then pulled her by the hand towards the armchair and sat down, pulling her gently into his lap. His arms automatically held her against him.

"That is adorable." She said seriously and placed a tender kiss on his lips.

Adorable had never been a word he was associated with as a full grown man. Handsome, intelligent, skilled, lethal, but never adorable. He chuckled in response and placed his hand on her round stomach. Lately, she had become tired of people randomly caressing her belly, but every time he did it she would close her eyes and sigh contently, feeling their baby move towards the caress of her father.

"How did you learn?" She asked curiously.

"My mother taught me when I returned from the second tour. I found it very relaxing in that time where nothing seemed to feel right." His voice turned into a low whisper, the sign that raw emotion still dwelled on his mind. "I haven't done it since I entered the SRU though."

He had never mentioned it before, and she could only guess if it had been due to embarrassment or the deep vulnerability it was related to. Nevertheless, after years of knowing each other so intimately, it still thrilled her to be learning new sides of the man she loved.  
She watched him reach behind the pillow on his back and retrieve the results of his work. In his hand were two little pink booties that would soon fit into little feet. A gasp left her lips as soon as she saw them.

"They are wonderful, Sam." Tears started to pool in her eyes. She held the booties with her hands and caressed the delicate cotton pieces, so perfectly made.

There were no words to express how overwhelmed she was, and felt it translated into the enthusiastic movements inside her belly. He used the skill that had once soothed his mind from painful moments and turned it into a lovely present to his daughter. It did not come as a surprise to her that recently he seemed to have mastered the art of making an expert negotiator like herself become speechless. The only instinctive response was to taste his lips once again with a lingering kiss.

The last rays of sun were long gone, and as the natural light entering the room started to fade, he looked at her blissful expression and contemplated how far he had come. For all purposes he would always be a soldier inside, and the painful memories would remain, with new ones collected in the police force. And even though he was no longer in the military, it was the experience and emotional turmoil that allowed him to be more sensitive to the signs of pain in others and make a difference in the world.

However, he was no longer the soldier that desperately sought a new meaning to life, he now held that very purpose in his arms, his still very sexy sniper chick, and their child. Now, he no longer needed thread and needle, because whenever those memories assaulted him, he had someone to turn to, someone that would listen and simply hold him through the storm.

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Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Whatever the Heart Desires

**Title:** Whatever the Heart Desires

 **Rating:** T

 **Timeline:** Season 2, Episode 1: Eagle Two

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She pushed the glass door of the hotel and was immediately greeted by a rush of cold night air. Goosebumps erupted on the surface of her skin, but she welcomed the contrast to the overwhelming heat she felt inside. The remnants of the anxiety she had been feeling for the last few hours were still pumping through her veins, and a feverish feeling had captured her body.

As her heels hit the pavement, and her legs mindlessly carried her away from the epicenter of her failure, her mind filled with blame once more. She grumbled under her breath, admonishing herself for the unbelievable lack of judgement that made her mess the protection detail. It only took a second of distraction to turn a standard security operation into chaos with unprecedented complications and potential victims. Even though in the end they had managed to secure the situation and ultimately have a positive outcome, she still felt irrationally guilty.

She had always prided herself for being a perfectionist, and when it came to her job that characteristic was exacerbated. Never resigning from her responsibilities, she would always address every mission with gravity. That particular personality trait was one of the reasons why she was exceptionally good at her job. While she understood that mistakes were inherent to the human condition, unfortunately there should be no room for failure in this job. Failure often costed lives, and tonight had been a primary example of that.

From the moment she turned her back to search for the source of the explosion, which unleashed a catalytic reaction that lead to compromising the mission, she had felt panic engulf her whole being. Part of that feeling still resided in her. But even though she recognized her mistake the biggest blow came from Sargent Parker.

In the aftermath, he had congratulated her team mates and had not acknowledge her presence, not even to admonish her for doing a terrible job. After years of working together, she already knew it only meant he was deeply disappointed with her. She would have to deal with her own regrets, but his disappointment was even worse to accept. If there was something she dreaded, it was to let down those who trusted her the most.

"Hey, Jules!"

Her thoughts were cut short by her name being called out in a deep husky voice she knew quite well. Turning around, she saw the owner of that voice walking towards her. She sighed heavily, already feeling her patience wearing thin. The last thing she needed was his sympathy, or his uncanny ability to be in tune with her emotions. So she just walked faster, hoping it would dissuade him from following. However, he was an incredibly persistent man and kept jogging towards her, easily catching up.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault." He said softly.

Those were the words she had been wanting desperately to hear, and he was offering them so willingly and without any hint of condescension that it almost made her forget how incredibly mad she was at herself.

"Yeah, I know." She answered back. If she rationalized it thoroughly, she had to admit that it could have happened to anyone else on the team, but the fact that she was the one who had lost control of the situation was hard to accept.

He offered to take her back, but her plans involved walking the short distance to her home hoping the night air would help clear her head. In spite of her refusal, he kept insisting, his protective behavior fully displayed. His name came out loud as a warning for him to back away before she unleashed all her irritability on him. She was no damsel, nor was she in distress, and she was already about to burst.

When he asked if she thought he felt sorry for her, she could only regard him with an earnest stare that told him that was exactly what he was feeling or at least that he was trying to make her feel less guilty. Then he brushed it off and offered to take her home once more.

There was another refusal from her as she tried to get away from his hold on her arm, but he startled her by pulling her flush against his body. Suddenly they were face to face and she saw an overwhelming passion in his eyes, one she had seen countless times before and had been running away from it for quite a while. This time he did not allow her to get away and when his eyes shifted to her lips she did the same in expectation.

In the space of a heartbeat his lips crashed with hers and insistently moved against them. The surprise only lasted a second, and she found herself unable to control her actions and kissing him back.

It did not take long for them to forget their surroundings and for her to get lost in the sensation of his lips demanding more. She obeyed by slightly opening her mouth to fully taste him. Her hands came around his neck, pulling him closer and feeling him increasing the pace and pouring all passion into the kiss. She responded just as eagerly, feeling a portion of the tension that had been building between them release, and her body melt in his strong embrace.

Soon after, she realized what they were doing and how exposed to curious looks they were. With great effort she detached her lips from his, breathing hard. He too was struggling to consume air, and rested his forehead on hers, closed his eyes and allowed a large grin to form on his lips. His smile did not last long because when she opened her mouth again it was to shatter the illusion of happiness.

"This was a mistake, Sam." She whispered between intakes of air, remembering that was exactly the line they sould not have crossed.

A flash of hurt briefly crossed his blue eyes and she immediately regretted the bluntness of her words after such a wonderful moment. In the next instant he took a step backwards, deliberately putting much needed space between them, and breathed deeply. By now she knew that deep intake of air meant he was collecting his scattered emotions to hide behind walls of fortitude.

For the last time that night he offered to take her home, this time in a calm, collected voice that left no room for her to refuse. She complied silently, as cold drops started to fall from the sky and hit her skin while thunder roared in the distance. In the short distance back to the truck, she still fought against the delicious haze that his soft lips provoked in her.

Uncomfortable was an understatement to describe the car ride to her house. Silence reigned in the fairly large space of the SUV and not even the hushed tones of the radio were enough to cut the tension between them. In the midst of her inner turmoil, she was able to steal sporadic glances at him. He kept looking forward, raptly concentrated on the road, while his hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Otherwise, his face was an unreadable mask. But as always, his eyes betrayed the emotions hidden inside. Under the brightness of the rapidly passing street lights his expressive blue eyes shone with a peculiar mixture of happiness and rejection. Another twinge of guilt settled on her chest.

She had been absently staring at him when his eyes shifted towards her. In that moment, she felt her cheeks uncharacteristically blush under the intensity of his stare. Averting her eyes, she turned away and watched the solitary spring rain drops that hit the window and raced down the glass in a kaleidoscope of white and red, reflecting the blurred street lights.

Long gone were the thoughts of her monumental failure, apparently becoming irrelevant ever since his lips crashed on hers. If his intention had been to somewhat erase her self-deprecating thoughts, he had successfully achieved his goal with that kiss. Her lips still tingled with the sensation.

A short while later he pulled the truck on her driveway, turned off the engine but made no effort to get out. Gathering all the courage she could find, she turned to him. In that moment she found no words to either apologize for her reaction or to demand a reprise of their kiss. Instead she just stared with a small smile, silently thanking him for his care, and all the forms it took tonight. He nodded in silent acknowledgment, eyes filled with sadness.

She got out of the car and quickly ran to the front door without looking back fearing she might be tempted to act against her better judgment. Once inside her house it felt like she could breathe easily again as the sound of the truck faded into the distance. The silence that greeted her was deafening, filled with bitter loneliness that had never quite bothered her as much before. She made her way upstairs to her bedroom, and after a quick night routine changed into a comfortable set for bed. Exhausted, she desperately wanted to nestle between the sheets and succumb to a dreamless sleep.

As she lay in bed with darkness all around, her mind remained wide awake, racing with the memory of their kiss. It had been a long time coming, and she could not deny she had yearned for it for a while. And he had made no secret of his intentions either.

She sighed while watching the contrasts of moonlight and darkness reflected on the ceiling and wondered if he too was having difficulties to sleep. Imagining him lying on his bed did not help to restrain her train of thought.

She recalled how their first interaction had been far from what it was now. The intensity and ridiculousness of that meeting irked her so deeply that she could not control a slight exasperation towards him. The first impression had definitely been interesting. It only got worse when he was properly introduced as their new colleague, completely unbeknownst to the rest of the team.

That night, as they sat around a table sharing drinks, she asked why he had left the army for SRU. There had been nothing innocent in that question, only curiosity with the purpose of making him uncomfortable about his intentions to disturb the status quo of Team One. To her surprise, his previously guarded face changed to complete sadness, and for the first time she saw the deep sorrow that lurked behind his very expressive blue eyes. He had been visibly stunned by her brutally blunt question but remained silent, just staring at her. She had made an impact, maybe deeper than she anticipated, but it only spiked her interested in him. Suddenly, he became a challenge to her, to know what lay underneath his sarcastic quips and the mask of a stoic soldier, even though she wanted to play uninterested since they were having a new rookie without their consent.

His attempts to persuade her to go out with him had been absurd to say the least, but he always kept a nonchalant air about it that drove her mad. She kept turning him down at first, but he seemed like a man that was used to fight for what he wanted, persistently.

It was his admission of what had happened in the army, which they all accidentally heard over the ear piece, that had made her feel a lot more sympathetic towards him. That had been the answer to the very first question she ever asked him. She recalled how stunned he had been as he turned the corner and there she was, waiting for him and hoping her company would be enough to soothe his somber mood. That night they had finally gone out for dinner.

After particularly difficult shifts, coffee was taken in the back of her jeep. She usually parked by the Harbourfront marina, while the Toronto skyline illuminated the view against the night sky. They would fill the hours with conversation, naturally opening up to each other while their bodies nestled together in the small space.

She could not identify the exact moment when friendship had turned into something more. All she knew was that something had changed within her when his fingers touched her skin.

She had been so distracted wincing at her bruised reflection in the mirror that she had not heard him knocking on the door of the locker room. He just barged in calling her name, and her reaction was to sarcastically greet his presence while instinctively holding the towel tighter around her chest. He had realized the mistake right away, averted his eyes and found an escape by twisting her curling iron in his hands. Her body relaxed then as she watched how flustered he became at the mere sight of her barely covered body.

It was only by calling out his name that he stopped the ramble and found courage to look her in the eyes. His first instinct was to produce a joke, which had done nothing to make any of them less uncomfortable. She kept assuring him she was fine, compelled by his display of concern. It was not the first time she had gotten hurt while doing her job, and it certainly would not be the last. A bruised back was only a small inconvenience for someone that constantly pushed her limits. For a long time she had been self-sufficient and carefully hid her vulnerabilities, which made her almost forgot what felt like to have someone worry about her. It caught her off guard that he had been the only one asking.

When he boldly asked if she needed a second opinion, his eyes turned into a darker shade of blue, and his voice dropped into a low, raspy whisper. There was a challenge in his tone that dared her to follow, knowing perfectly well that resistance was futile.

A shiver ran through her body then. In that moment she had hoped the reaction to his incredibly suggestive tone would not be embarrassingly visible on her exposed skin. Slowly, she had turned around only to feel his fingertips lightly touch her bruised back. They had burned a trail over her skin, igniting a fire within her that had only one way to be put out.

Unfortunately, their moment had been interrupted by an unwelcome caller with the worst sense of time. She saw his face change, and even though he said she could bring her date, which was only for her benefit, she could tell there was jealousy in the way he pursed his lips with a small, tight smile. There had been a side of her that had enjoyed his barely concealed display of jealousy, but had appreciated even more how his eyes became hopeful and his entire body relaxed when she consented to breakfast.

Hours after that encounter, she could still feel the sensation of his fingertips on her skin. To her immense frustration, that simple touch had fueled many inappropriate dreams that had her wake up in the middle of the following nights flustered and greatly unsatisfied.

They had got increasingly closer over the past few months and she had discovered deeper layers of his personality. And without realizing, she too had exposed herself to him, to a point where they were very comfortable with each other. Perhaps more than they should have.

It was a dangerous game they played, dancing around a metaphorical line, which was meant to keep them safe. Probing and teasing the line, closer and closer, until it became blurred but never daring to cross it no matter how many times they were too close to the limit. Tonight he had completely obliterated it with an incredible kiss that had made her feel more alive than anything else had in a long time.

She tossed and turned as the hours passed by, trying hard to ignore the overflow of memories triggered by him, while her treacherous mind continued to sway between reason and emotion.

A voice in the back of her mind reminded her how hard she had worked to achieve the goals she had set for herself long before they met. Ever since she made the controversial decision to become a police officer, she had gone to great lengths of sacrifice and had never looked back. Giving in to temptation could jeopardize all her hard work. The consequences of a relationship with him, even if in secret, were perfectly clear. But would she be able to remain rational?

It was pointless to deny the physical attraction, but she wondered if it would be enough for her to put her job, and the safety of others, on the line. In the dead of the night, she pondered if he was worth sacrificing all her achievements for a feeling that was stronger than anything she ever felt before.

She looked at the expanse of space beside her and sighed. That side of the bed had been unpleasantly empty for quite some time. As purpose-filled her professional life was, her personal life lacked the semblance of normalcy. In all relationships, she had desperately sought for that intense passion, but they all had lacked it. Yet, they had served their purpose to fill the lonely hours just fine. And it was usually over before it got overly complicated.

As an extremely compassionate person by nature she tended to connect deeply with others, but when it came to her deepest feelings she would rather keep them safely locked inside. By experience she had learned that completely trusting someone else and baring her whole heart would only lead to sorrow. Right now, she struggled to keep both her job and heart safe from harm and all because of him. That blue eyed, caring, occasionally cocky man that so easily torched through nearly all her defenses and was able to capture her heart, scaring her deeply.

She had the distinct feeling that something entirely different was brewing inside, a feeling she would rather not name but that was mirrored on his face every time he looked at her. At first she thought his intentions were only to have an outlet of sorts to release the tension after emotionally grueling shifts. Companionship and understanding were essential for their survival. But over time, she realized he might want more than she was willing to give.

Something inside told her it was already too late for denial. He pulled her towards him like gravity and it was getting harder to resist. After tonight she might no longer be able to.

Moved by emotion, she finally yielded to temptation, eager to lose herself in the passion he constantly showed whenever they were alone, away from the strains of the brass or potential looks from colleagues. She might be doing the second monumental mistake of the night, but she could no longer ignore neither her feelings nor the need to be touched by him, no matter the consequences of it.

Throwing the covers back, she jumped out of bed, changed into regular clothes and left the house in a hurry. She made her way towards his apartment in the quietness of the deserted streets.

She knocked on his apartment door sometime later, disturbing the silence while the numbers 1008 stared back at her accusingly. For a split second a flash of doubt crossed her mind, but it was immediately erased as soon as the door opened. She could not run way anymore.

He stared at her dressed in a simple pajama set, with his short blonde hair ruffled up in all directions and sleep still clouding his eyes. After a few blinks he rubbed his eyes, not entirely sure if the vision of her standing outside his door so late at night, with hair slightly wet from the rain and a look of desire on her face, was another product of his imagination.

There was no time to wonder about it because a second later she assaulted his lips. He huffed at the sudden contact, but his arms automatically enveloped and pulled her smaller body strongly against him for the fear she might run away again. He had plenty of dreams like this, but as her tongue swept over his lower lip, begging for entrance, he knew it was already better than anything his imagination could conjure.

He wanted to ask what had changed her mind, or if she was entirely sure of it because once they crossed the line again there would be no turning back, but she kept her lips firmly attached to his.

As the kiss intensified, her hands disappeared below his shirt and roamed over his chest, unleashing goosebumps across his skin. To her benefit, he detached their lips long enough to take off his shirt and throw it across the room. Now she had plenty of space available for her hands to caress his upper body and to watch his reactions to her light touches.

He pulled at the hem of her own shirt, urging her to take it off and bare herself to him. She did so in one swift movement. If the desire in his eyes had not made her shiver, she would have laughed at his wide eyed expression so entranced by the sight of her exposed breasts. Cautiously, he held onto one of them and squeezed lightly. Need built within her more ardently than before and she could feel her cheeks heat up with every fast beat of her heart.

She pressed their bodies together again and shivered once her skin touched his for the first time. The sensation was entirely new. Lips voraciously captured hers while his hands traveled down her back. He held onto her bottom and lifted her effortlessly so her legs could wrap around his hips. With her arms and legs safely around him, he then pushed her against the nearest wall, and when their centers collided she felt how excited he was for her.  
His lips descended over the exposed skin of her neck and bit her gently to test her reaction. It did not disappoint when she whimpered close to his ear, her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders and her hips unconsciously buckled against his, making him groan in return.

There was a mischievous smile on his face as he carried her to the bedroom, careful not to stumble and make a complete mess of their bodies. But she was making it hard to concentrate by nibbling on his ear. The room was dark when he entered and they fell together on the bed in a motion that lacked so much class that when his full weight fell on top of her it made her laugh out loud.

Clothes were discarded in haste and for the rest of the night there was no more laughter. Only their mingled moans in the midst of pleasure filled the darkness of the room as she gladly gave herself to him.  
Later, when the waves of passion settled down, they were still enveloped in each other as if time had stood still, and the only sounds that filled the room were their heavy breaths. She held him close when he laid his head on her chest and breathed as hard as she did, both completely spent.

Unwilling to part from her but knowing he must, he rolled to the side, all the while staring at her with a smug grin on his face. Instinctively, she wanted to slap that smile off but soon realized a very similar one was on her lips as well.

The dim light of the room reflected on his eyes which were now a deeper shade of blue than she had seen before. What she immediately knew was that it was the look of immense happiness and it was completely contagious. She smiled brilliantly at him. For the first time she would willingly put reason on hold and allow herself to fully enjoy the moment with no room for fear or regrets.

When words failed, she dropped a lingering kiss on his lips, a gesture that conveyed how truthfully she wanted him no matter how many lines they had just crossed. He nodded, equally assuring that he felt the same. She then molded her naked body to his and laid her head on his shoulder. A perfect fit. His arms held her securely against him and she could tell he was slightly surprised by her display of affection.

Finally she realized he would be worth all the secrets. But time would unforgivingly force her to choose between him and her job, and there would be heartache without end.

For now she was content to rest within the circle of his arms, with the soft beat of his heart underneath her ear lulling her into a sated sleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** I also wrote a very steamy M rated version of this story. Let me know if anyone is interested in reading it.

Thanks for reading!


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